Under Dark Clouds
by Navarra
Summary: [Story on (permanent?) hiatus; WiP] FrodoSam slash. In the darkest of settings, Frodo and Sam discover unexpected things. Slash warning. PG-13 for later chapters and just in case.
1. Belief

**Title: **Under Dark Clouds

**Notes:** It's a Frodo/Sam ficcy! My first ever! Finally finished reading all the books and got inspired to write about those silly little hobbits. Nothing more really to say, except for that this chapter is basically just developing stuff: characters, relationship, whatever. No action **yet**. Hehehe. Hope you like! 

**Warning: **SLASH! If you don't know what slash is, it's boyxboy, yaoi, all that other stuff. In other words, gay-ness. If you still don't understand, don't read this. Or if you don't like that stuff, don't read this. Or if you don't like Frodo/Sam. No flames for slash _please_! And I suppose it's AU, just because the dialogue is a little switched. Some things that Sam's supposed to say Frodo says, etc. And AU for slash.

**Disclaimer: **Please. Do you really need to hear me say it? Fine, I don't own any characters or basically anything from Lord of the Rings. All that stuff belongs to other people. Not me. Thanks for reminding me.

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Chapter 1: Belief

Frodo looked out on the fiercely uninviting landscape. His eyes panned sharp black mountains, like huge dark soldiers waiting threateningly in their lines. The frowning peaks dared him to come close, to try and break their ranks. The range was endless, an unbroken perimeter of the savage territory where he had found himself of late. Frodo wondered by the devising of what higher power he had been allowed to pass those hopeless cliffs. Truthfully, the Mountains of Shadow were made not as much to keep others out, as to imprison the slaves of Sauron inside. Nevertheless, it was still a fantastic accomplishment to pass through those mountains. Fantastic, in the sense that it was a massive achievement for the Ring-bearer and his friend.

At this Frodo wondered. Was it in fact an achievement? 

'Well, of course it _was _an achievement, though I should not think I will get an award and a cheering crowd for it,' he thought to himself. 'But not an achievement in that I would feel glad at the results. For I don't, not in the slightest. And therefore it is an achievement that I _had_ to accomplish, not one that I _wanted_ to," Frodo reasoned.

He had known this all along, in fact. He merely liked to run things through his mind, so he could be sure they were right. But he had known since the Shire that no one expected him to complete the journey to destroy the One Ring because of his bravery, knowledge, or other talents. For of these he had very little, at least in comparison to the elves or men that had valor and wisdom.

Instead, the reason for Frodo to complete this mission was because he _had_ to. It was his duty, his task, his overwhelming burden. As Galadriel had put it, when he visited her in Lothl—rien what seemed like decades ago, "If you do not find a way, no one will". And this lonely task was rising to the front of his mind, weighing him downÐit had been ever since L—rien. All of those around him had been starting to see that before he and Sam departed secretly. And here, in the obscurity of Mordor, Frodo was beginning to feel himself slipping into shadow. _His_ duty, _his_ task...

He turned around and began to walk back to the burrow-like shelter he and Sam had found to rest for a while. Actually, Frodo hadn't helped at all in finding the burrow; Sam had discovered it. Sam had been unofficially put in charge of any physical _or_ mental labor that had to be done to keep the two alive in this place. Frodo just wasn't capable of doing any work in his weakened state. It pained Frodo deeply to see his utterly devoted friend loading up with extra gear or searching for a hiding place from orcs all by himself. After all, Sam was going through similar psychological torment from being in this region, so near to the Dark Power. 

But Sam was not really weakened, Frodo thought as he observed him day after day. In fact, the strenuous journey and immense pressure seemed to make Sam perform better. He was physically stronger, easy for anyone to see from his outside appearance. But Frodo sensed a mental change in Sam as well, a snap in his nature and personality. Sam was wiser, quicker, and more animated. Frodo loved and respected this change, this growth in Sam.

Sam was the only one who believed in him. It seemed to Frodo that Sam was the only person who thought that he had enough strength and intelligence to get into Mordor and destroy the Ring. Sam respected and believed in him so much that it overwhelmed Frodo.

As he walked back through a thicket of sharp, dry scrub to their den he thought of Sam's endless generosity and care for him. His gardener-turned-comrade had become the dearest person in his life, and after all that they had been through together, this was expected. And Sam seemed to have an infinite supply of good cheer and calm words for his beloved Mr. Frodo. Frodo truly could not have gotten to this point without him.

Frodo reached the hollow and sat down on a flat, dusty rock a few feet away from Sam, who was sleeping on his side. Frodo watched Sam's brown curls fly up and away from his forehead and then settle back down around his face whenever a light breeze passed by. His expression was one of satisfaction, and Frodo guessed that he was dreaming of the days back in the Shire.

Frodo often dreamed of the Shire as well; or he had, at least, before he started having nightmares about flames, torment, blackness and death. During those nights Frodo would wake up, frightened and panting, shaking with heat and cold at the same time. In a matter of seconds or less, Sam would be by his side, cradling him in his arms, comforting him.

Frodo looked at Sam's kind face and sighed. How had such a pleasant, well-meaning hobbit ended up in this awful place? He felt terrible for dragging him in here. On the other hand, he had hardly been able to leave him behind. Sam's devotion to his master was unbreakable.

Frodo continued to watch Sam, the gardener's chest moving up and down as he breathed, his rough hands positioned under his head as a pillow. His light brown curls flying in the slight wind. Frodo gazed at Sam for quite some time before his mind suddenly rushed back to reality and he wondered why he was doing so. His eyes focused, he shook his head and he stood up quickly, making himself dizzy. He rushed to the side of the cave to support himself in his hazy condition. Sam's eyelids twitched suddenly, then opened as he rolled up to a sitting position.

"What's the matter, Mr. Frodo? Somethin' wrong?" he asked, quickly changing state from groggy to fully alert.

"No, Sam. Everything's fine. It's fine. I was just...surprised," replied Frodo.

"What were you scrambling about for, then?" Sam inquired.

"I....I was just....I hope I didn't wake you," Frodo changed the subject quickly as Sam began to get up.

"Naw, Mr. Frodo, it's time we got on again anyway. Are you feelin' alright?" Sam asked this question of Frodo every day.

"Fine, Sam," Frodo answered. In fact, Frodo was feeling cold, thirsty, and confused. He was still wondering about his long gaze at Sam, but wasn't soon going to ask him about it. Instead, he put on his light pack and guiltily watched Sam putting on his bulging one. Impulsively he reached out his hand and pushed the pack back down to the ground. Sam looked at him quizzically.

"Perhaps we should leave some of this gear behind, Sam," Frodo answered Sam's silent question. "We--we shan't need it where we are going. Leave some behind."

Sam nodded. "You're right, Mr. Frodo. I daresay we won't need it." Sam said this sadly, dreading both the fatal road ahead and the thought of leaving behind his precious cooking supplies, which he had grown quite attached to.

Both of the hobbits knelt and began to pull items out of the pack. Frodo let Sam decide whether or not to bring his cooking supplies, and felt sad for him when he saw Sam place his pots on the ground behind him.

Then, both of the hobbits reached for a small scrap of dirty, ripped cloth, which perhaps used to be some kind of facecloth. Their hands touched slightly and Frodo felt the cold soreness in his hands be overtaken by a pleasant, but shocking, warmth spreading from the spot where Sam's hand had touched his. Surprised greatly, Frodo's eyes widened and he stopped unpacking and stood still. Sam noticed the pause beside him and turned to Frodo.

"What's the matter, Mr. Frodo?" Sam asked for the second time today. "Did you hurt yourself? Why've you stopped?"

Frodo looked straight at Sam and could see no sign of him feeling anything like he had. "No reason, Sam. I'm just weary, I suppose," he replied gloomily.

"Weary? But the day's just started!" laughed Sam. "Here, I've got something that will hearten you. _Lembas_ bread!" He took some out of the pack and took off the leaf wrapping.

"Oh, no, Sam. I've eaten too much already. That's your share," exclaimed Frodo.

"Go on. Take it! I don't need it," Sam countered.

"Oh, Sam, no," Frodo resisted. At that Sam looked so disappointed that Frodo could do nothing but relent to Sam's will. 

"All right, fine. I'll eat it, since you want me to." Frodo took the dry bread while Sam leaned back and watched. It usually made Frodo uncomfortable to eat right in front of others, but with Sam he had already done so so many times, it didn't matter anymore.

After Frodo had finished, the two put on their lightened packs and set off through the dead thicket. They came to the roadside and turned to the right, continuing where they had left off last night. 

Ahead of them they could see the harsh landscape, including Orodruin, the fiery mountain, which was spewing out flames and black clouds high above the ground. Mt. Doom, their dismal destination, the place they had been heading for for days, silently hoping never to get there. The friends walked side by side, both minds filled only with thoughts of moving on deeper into the harsh land, under the shadow of Mordor.

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First chapter done. Pretty short I guess. Like? Or not? Whichever, I want to know all about it. So press the pretty blue button and give me criticism/praise/whatever. Next chappie most likely coming soon, as I am very hyper from eating a whole carton of B&J's ice cream. So, see you round! Love ya!


	2. Falling

Hellooo! 'Nother chapter all done! Thanks to the TWO people who reviewed it. What a great response, ha ha. Oh well, going to continue anyway, because _I_ like it. To the people who reviewed:

**Eregriel Gloswen: **Thank you thank you, I'm glad you think it's IC 'cause that's what I was trying for. Here's more for ya!

**Gollum Fingers: **Thanks! I like to have good grammar and sentence structure and all that. And there's more conversation in this chappie, I think.

OK, seems kind of silly to reply to each person...er, personally when there's only two, but I want to do it that way anyway because I love people who reivew. Thank you so much! And here's another chapter, more stuff, blah blah blah, yay!

**Warning: **Slash, but there's not really any yet. Well there kind of is. For what slash is, refer to chapter 1.

**Disclaimer: **Don't own nothin'.

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Chapter Two: Falling

As Frodo walked, he thought. Thinking was really his main activity these days, that and talking to Sam. But the two almost never talked as they walked, instead trying to focus their energy on reaching their formidable goal. So Frodo thought, mainly about the Ring. It was ever present in his mind, especially in this dark land. He thought about its weight around his neck. It was very heavy.

He walked. He thought more about the Ring. He felt it around his neck, its weight. He reached up and felt it under his shirt. It pulled on the chain around his neck. It was so heavy. His head started to nod with its weight. It was so heavy, and it was pulling him down. He tried to keep his head up.

So small, so powerful. He could feel it. Suddenly he was alone, all alone. He was in the dark. It was only he, and the Ring. The Ring was heavy, too heavy for him to hold up. His head and shoulders slouched, but he kept walking, slowly.

It was pulling him closer, closer to the Dark Power. He could feel it. Into the darkness, down, down to the ground... Frodo could feel himself slipping... he closed his eyes. He fell.

He fell down, but didn't feel himself hit the ground. Instead, he fell into something warm, and soft. He didn't open his eyes. What was this? It felt comfortable and secure, not cold and dark. He leaned into it, welcoming its embrace and shield against the darkness. Frodo kept his eyes closed. He didn't care what it was, it was there, and it would protect him. He fell asleep.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Frodo awoke, and didn't know where he was. It felt like he was wrapped in a warm blanket, but all around him he could see dead trees and rock. He squirmed a bit, and then stopped suddenly. His blanket was...breathing? No, it couldn't be...but Frodo could feel the soft surface behind him rise and fall, as if it was taking deep breaths.

Frodo looked up, and waited a few seconds for his eyes to focus. A familiar face came into view, brown curls, soft eyes. It was smiling. It was Sam, Frodo realized and for a second his heart leaped and for some reason he felt like he was floating in the sky. He came back to Earth, awoken by the adrenaline rush.

"Mr. Frodo?" the face said. Sam's face. Sam was holding him, cradling him in his arms, and Frodo had no idea why. He had to say something, however.

"Um?" said Frodo drowsily. "I mean, what's happened?"

"I don't rightly know," Sam replied. "I mean, you fell down."

"What? Now?" Frodo was still acting stupidly, confused and disconcerted.

"Last night, or day, or whenever it was. I can't tell days from nights in this place, where there's no sun or moon."

"Sam, what is it?" Frodo asked.

"Well, you fell." Sam replied matter-of-factly.

"How? How, and why did I fall?"

"I don't know," Sam said again. "But you fell, at least you started falling, and I caught you."

Frodo realized that he was still lying in Sam's lap, but he didn't get up. "You caught me? How on Earth...?"

"We were walking and I saw you start to fall, Mr. Frodo, to the side of me, and I leaned over and caught you, sure enough. And I sat, right on the side of the road, and let you lie. And you dropped off, somewhere along the line, but now you've woken up."

"I slept...here?" asked Frodo.

"You did, Mr. Frodo. You were tired, surely, after getting no sleep for a long while. You've hardly slept at all lately, and I know why."

"Oh, Sam. Didn't you get any sleep at all?" asked Frodo, ignoring the last part of Sam's statement.

"I might've. I don't know," Sam said for the third time. "I just sat here for a long time. And watched out for anything that might come by and see us. Two orcs came by, but we were covered with these cloaks, you see. And they just passed us by; they didn't see us at all. They really are wonders, the elves."

"Sam, Sam. You should've woken me. It was dangerous." Frodo resisted, although he was sure he liked it better where he was, as opposed to if he had been still walking through the gloom towards Mt. Doom. 

"I couldn't wake you, Mr. Frodo, you needed sleep. And not after you had fallen, and I didn't even know why you had," Sam reasoned.

"It was the Ring, Sam. I almost put it on. It was pulling me, it pulled me down," Frodo said quietly, remembering. 

"That blasted ring!" Sam cried. "What's it done to you?"

"It's taking me, Sam." Frodo whispered shakily, his eyes wide. "It's going to...we have to..."

"I know it is," Sam said, holding Frodo closer.

"It's going to take me, Sam. I'm slipping," Frodo was more afraid than ever before. "We have to go. It's heavy..."

Sam knew it was meaningless to say the words he was about to, but he couldn't help himself. He could not bear to see Frodo like this, falling into shadow.

"Mr. Frodo, it's too much. Look at you! You're tired, and cold. You can't carry it all the way. Why don't you let me--"

"Sam, no! No, don't you understand?" cried Frodo, and he finally lifted his upper body out of Sam's lap and stood. "You must stop! I can't give it to you, I can't. I have to finish this. You must understand."

Sam looked away, towards their destination. "I do understand. And I don't know where it's going to lead, Mr. Frodo."

"Sam, what do you mean?" Frodo looked at Sam questioningly.

Sam looked back at Frodo. His eyes filled with tears as he saw his master's face, sunken and sad. His body defeated and weak, and his eyes almost dead. But Sam could see life in them yet, if only a tiny flicker, and on this he concentrated.

"Meant nothing by it, Mr. Frodo. Only that I don't know what's to happen next," said Sam. 

"Well, I do," replied Frodo. "We have to keep on. We must keep going." Frodo was becoming anxious. He reached out his hand to Sam, and again was surprised as he felt a tingling shock go up his arm when Sam grabbed it. Sam's touch seemed to give him a lift, a push. Again, Frodo could see no evidence that Sam felt the same thing, or anything at all. Again, he started thinking about Sam, wondering if he would ever figure out what was going on between them.

Frodo helped Sam up and both picked up their packs and began to walk, again in silence. They were getting closer to Orodruin, whether they wanted to or not, despite the fact that it seemed to them to never get any closer. They walked side by side, Sam watching Frodo for any signs of falling again, and Frodo keeping his eyes on his feet and his mind anywhere besides Sam. And all the time, Mt. Doom loomed up in front of them, black and fiery, and filled with shadow.

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And there you have it. If you got this far, it's time for you to go press that pretty button! Leave me a review, or two! Or more! See, reviews get me review alert mail, and review alert mail makes me excited, and being excited gives me an adrenaline rush, and having an adrenaline rush gives me energy, and having energy lets me go to the store, and going to the store lets me buy ice cream, and buying ice cream leads to eating ice cream, and eating ice cream makes me hyper, and being hyper helps me write more...and faster! Got it? So you see, reviews=chapters. 

So review! Thanks! Bye now!


	3. Nettles

Sorry I haven't updated in a while. I went to St. Croix for a week, US Virgin Islands. Then I came back and lo and behold, Beth's Page of Marth has been abandoned. She no longer updates it. This would be ok, except I can't even visit the remains of the site, as something screwy is going on and not letting me click anything on the navigation bar. Ah well, I will not bore you with my troubles. I have gotten into a slightly better mood with the help of jelly beans, Yoshi's Island for Gameboy Advance, SSBM, ice cream, Scooby-Doo Mac and Cheese, Harry Potter, and Oscar Winner Predictions from Entertainment Weekly. It takes a lot to cheer me up, I guess. On with the show!

Reviewers! You rock! You guys are extraordinarily cool and I lurve you. And now I will respond to each and every one (an incredible 5).

**ryna*riddle:** Well, thank ye very much! I went on and read some of your fics, and you really like that sad, dark stuff, don't you? Well some of them were happy-ish...They were wicked good, though...loved them. But I'm not sure I can measure up to the sadness and darkness of yours.....eep.

**MaidenOfImladris: **Your review, while touching, was mildly unnerving. However, we hope the refresh button works more effectively in the future. "We" being me...and, um....stuff.

**soymaid: **Thanks! Yay, fluff is good! ...heh, heh, heh. Like a hammer.

**Vreda Morrison: **Um, yes, I will! But I can't drive. And in response to the review for my other story...I'm sorry I don't know you as well. Well, heck, I practically do know you! Sort of! Um...call me sometime. Or something.

**Julia: **Thank you! You shall see! And lastly, I did!

Ok, this chapter is REALLY short. I set out with only one goal, really, for this chappie. And I achieved it rather quickly, and then the chapter just ended. So, sorry 'bout the shortness.

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Chapter Three:

Mount Doom hovered threateningly, coughing up foul smoke into the sky. It loomed large and black, a very uninviting sight. Its slopes were littered with crumbling gray rock, making an ascent seem almost impossible.

And that was how it seemed to Frodo, as well. He glanced up at the mountain every few steps, watching as it came closer and closer every time. It seemed incredibly tall and steep, and the fiery spout at the top was even less attractive. Frodo was doubtful that anyone, let alone he, should be able to scale those slopes. He lowered his eyes.

Frodo tried to focus on the fact that he was not alone. The ring was pulling him into a sense of detachment, aloneness. The world was blacker than ever, and Frodo felt that he was seeing everything through a shadowy veil. He was falling.

A nettle brushed his calf, the sting bringing him back to reality. He shut his eyes tightly and started to shake his foot, trying to force the pain out. Then he realized that perhaps it would be better to focus his mind on the pain, use it as something to hold onto. He looked around him, at the nettles on his left. It seemed appropriate to him that the only things that grew here were nettles and scratchy patches of brush. He had seen no other growing things here, and he realized that Sam was probably more attentive to this fact as he was a gardener by trade. He turned his eyes to Sam, but carefully, as if he was afraid that Sam would do the same and see him. He felt like a tweenager with these kinds of actions, and despaired at the fact that he thought he had left this behavior behind at his coming-of-age. 

And anyway, it was only Sam. He almost laughed aloud at the thought. It was only Sam, his companion, his friend. Frodo smiled. The one who had traveled far and wide with him, across rivers and Amon Hen, who was here with him now. Frodo glanced at him again to make sure, and of course, Sam was still there. Sam, a fellow hobbit. Sam, a fellow _male_ hobbit.

Frodo stopped smiling. A fellow male hobbit. Sam. Whom he had the urge to glance over at every few seconds, just to make sure...what? Sam, who was walking slowly next to him, calmly. Sam, whose comforting words had kept him sane when he awoke in the middle of many nights. Sam, whose arms were a shield. Sam, the person Frodo knew the best, and who had been there through the worst.

Frodo looked over at Sam again and shivered. Then he shut his eyes and shook his head, trying to clear his mind. His thoughts were jumbled, but even through the confusion one thought unnerved him. He didn't _need_ to clear his mind. He already knew exactly what was going on.

He was falling, in more ways than one.

Frodo brushed his calf against a nettle, purposefully this time. It stung, and the cold pain made him shiver a little again. He gathered his thoughts and concentrated, focusing his mind on the pain, and walked on.

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End of chapter. VV short, yes, I know. You know the drill, review me! And I will go buy more sugar and sugary products. The effect of ice cream is waning, I fear, and my new passion is jelly beans. Jelly Belly jelly beans. Scrumptious. Ew I hate that word. OK I have to shut up now.

*ALERT! ALERT* In regards to my story, Frodo is NOT, I repeat, NOT going to become self-destructive and -mutilating. It was just a one-time thingy. He promises never to do it again.


	4. Home

I. Am so. Sorry. About the incredibly long wait I have had since the last chapter. I can't believe I have left you guys waiting for so long. At first it was just a few weeks, and then it grew and grew into...however long it has been. I apologize. I should be shot.

In other news...I give lots of love to my reviewers MaidenOfImladris, Eregriel Gloswen, Julia, and riyna*riddle. Thank you SO much for reviewing!

Disclaimer: I just poke and prod and make them do what I say. You should really be thanking Tolkien.

Warning: If you've got this far, you already know.

And in order to avoid the obscene amount of A/Ns that usually come along with my chapters...I think we'll just move on to the story. You've waited long enough.

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Chapter 4: Home

Sam was tired. He felt weak and weary while he sat and as he walked. He was tired at all hours of the day, except while he was sleeping. He was even exhausted right after he awoke. In fact, it was at this time that Sam felt the most drained.

The few moments just after one opens one's eyes after sleeping are when the full weight of the world comes crashing down on you, or at least this was what Sam felt. The emotion of lifeÐand, yes, of loveÐfilled him with surging grief and happiness at the same time. It was during these moments that his mind felt vulnerable, open to thoughts about subjects that normally he would have pushed far, far away.

Sam thought first of the Shire. It is always to his homeland that a wandering traveler's mind flies to, when he has a moment to spare. Sam missed his Shire so, the green of the rolling hills and his flourishing gardenÐso much more alive than these dying places. He longed for the familiarity of it all; a home for everything and everything in its own place. He had known since he was a young hobbit the practices and routines of his neighbors, especially the ones who had lived there for quite some time. He had long ago lost track of time and dates, and he wondered how much time exactly had passed since his departure from the Shire. Would his neighbors even remember him, miss him, long for his return, welcome him whenÐand ifÐhe did? Would Rosie do all this?

And thus his brain touched upon a particularly taboo subject. Rosie. Rosie Cotton, the pretty farmer's daughter, the happy girl with curly hair that Sam had so adored for years, from afar of course. Sam remembered watching Rosie dance, joyfully, and feeling like there was nothing wrong in the world at all. Which, at that time in his life, had practically been true.

But now that felt like a whole different life. There were two different Sams. One who watched Rosie Cotton from a distance and laughed and worked in his garden, and one who was currently lying down on hard rock and feeling more tired than he had ever before in his life. It seemed absurd, even _wrong_, to think about the life he had in the Shire. It seemed so far away. Plus, there were other things he had to think about--from this life.

Frodo was one of these things. Frodo and the undying voice in Sam's brain that told him to stick by him, no matter what. He had meant what he said, back in the Shire, in his other life. He had told them, he had said that he would never leave him. And he knew in his heart it was true; Frodo was everything he had left to hold on to. Sam would follow him to the top of the world, because he knew there was more of a bond between them than just companionship. _I am going with him, if he climbs to the moon._

Sam felt a tickling on his cheek and then on his nose; he lifted his hand and angrily brushed the tear away. He was supposed to be the strong one.

Sam sat up quickly and the noise caused Frodo to wake, next to him. Sam saw his eyes open and then close again, and he heard a dispirited sigh. Sam wondered what kinds of things were running through Frodo's mind.

"Mr. Frodo?"

No answer came.

"Mr. Frodo?" Sam said louder, and a bit more anxiously.

"Yes, Sam. I'm sorry. I'm here." Frodo's voice was very quiet. Sam could almost see the energy leaving his body with every word.

"Mr. Frodo..." Sam did not know what to say. There was no way he could make Frodo walk on. However, there was no way they could stay there and rest longer. They had to get on to Mt. Doom, as quickly as possible.

But Sam could see Frodo was very unwell, and it almost brought him back to tears. Sam noticed everything. He assumed it was a result of his trade; watching for weeds and insects among the healthy plants was a task that required keen eyesight. Sam never thought that perhaps his skill was more than eyesight, but also _insight._ He could usually tell when something was not at rest with his Frodo. And he could see now that Frodo was at his worst: weak and unable to go on at all.

But there were other things he could see. Such as when Frodo purposefully scraped his ankle against a stinging nettle, for reasons Sam could not grasp. And when Frodo had opened his eyes, they were not devoid of emotion, as Frodo's usually were these days. But Sam could not yet grasp the real meaning of all his observations.

So, as he often did when he did not understand something, he thought of his Gaffer. He would be pleased to know that Sam had stayed by his master for all this time. And as this was all Sam could think of to do, he did it. He would dedicate, as he had been doing, every ounce of his will towards helping Frodo. _I am going with him, if he climbs to the moon..._

"Sam?" Frodo was calling out.

"Yes?"

There was a pause, and then

"I don't think I can go on, Sam."

"You can, Mr. Frodo. I'm right here," Sam tried to reassure him.

"I'm so tired Sam," Frodo whispered, his eyes closed. "There's no way"

"There's ways, Mr. Frodo. I'll help you. I'm right here," Sam said again. He thought he saw a trace of a smile on Frodo's face before he spoke once more, and his eyes opened.

"Help me, Sam. I'm sure I cannot walk alone."

Sam stood up, and then reached down and put one hand under Frodo's arm, one on his back. He stood him up and bit his lip as he saw how helpless and limp the other hobbit was. He positioned Frodo's arm on his shoulders and began to walk. For once they left their belongings behind; the situation seemed so hopeless now that there was no need to bring those things along. Frodo's feet were barely walking; it was more as if they were scraping helplessly along the ground.

They reached what was left of the road and Sam looked around. His face grim, he began to plod along in the direction of Mt. Doom, which seemed less than an hour's walk away.

But far from feeling the usual sense of foreboding, he felt an unfamiliar sense of warmth. Frodo's body was relatively cold, but at the same time an odd sort of heat radiated off of it to Sam. While he held Frodo, it was almost as if he could feel happiness again. Like this, he felt whole.

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Relatively short, I know. But the next chapter will come sooner than this one did. And if I take more than two weeks to update, you have my permission to kill me. Any way you like. Death by pudding sounds yummy, why not give that a shot?

Please leave reviews, they are the food of my soul! More reviews = more chapters.


	5. Slopes

*ahem* Lurker alert! Saiyan*Queen*Vega has announced that they cease their lurker ways and come out of hiding! Let's all give her a big round of applause!

Other news: Did I make the two-week cutoff? Oh, I'm a BAD PERSON!

Thanks to the lovely and gorgeous reviewers MaidenOfImladris, Saiyan*Queen*Vega, Eregriel Gloswen, Julia, and Lady_Gamgee.

Disclaimer: No es m'o.

In this chapter I feel that I've basically stolen Tolkien's words right out of the book. Or a lot of it, anyway. Sorry about that. I just didn't think I could blatently change it, it didn't seem to work. I hope I don't dissapoint anybody.

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Chapter 5: Slopes

Sam was carrying Frodo on his back. Somehow he was managing to keep the light hobbit on his back while stumbling forwards, although he knew not where he had found the strength to do so.

Sam had noticed that the ground passing beneath his slow feet had been growing slightly more sloped as the minutes passed, but he said nothing. He had also recognized that Frodo was growing more and more weak, but Sam simply continued on.

He knew it could not be long before they reached the mountain's base, and he wondered what he would do; what he _could_ do. They could begin to ascend, and then? Sam could hardly help Frodo all the way up the mountain, could he?

Sam was in inner turmoil. They could (or rather, Sam could; Frodo was nowhere near making such decisions) stop and rest, wasting precious time, trying in vain to revive Frodo. They could give up. Or, they could simply keep walking, Frodo limp and dragging, and Sam supporting him, carrying him as far as he would go. Sam considered the options. He thought. But even as he thought, he knew there was no need to.

Sam knew what he would do. He had known the answer before he asked the question. It was unthinkable that they would stop, that they would give up. It would be like purchasing seeds and planting them in rows, toiling for months over the dirt with water and tools, watching them sprout and grow, and then abandoning them to the hot sun five days before harvest. Sam and Frodo had toiled for longer than that. They would not let this thing shrivel and die. Sam would not allow it.

And so Sam pretended. He pretended everything was fine, he made believe they would be all right. He merely trudged upwards, the path getting steeper and Frodo heavier. And while he did he pretended he believed that they would make it.

Sam's feet were scraping the ground with each step. He was tired. They were ten feet up the mountain. He wondered how many more feet there were.

He continued to struggle up the mountain, using every ounce of strength he had. He knew he would continue until he could go no farther. He stumbled on the uneven path.

Frodo was heavy on his back. He tripped again, staggering to the side. He kept walking upwards, clumsily. He wondered how long it had been.

Sam kept tripping; his eyes and mind not alert enough to pick up the bumps and ditches in the ground in front of him. Finally he fell to his knees, too weary to take another step. He laid his master gently on the ground before him.

Frodo's eyes slowly flickered open. He smiled: a small, weak smile, but a genuine one.

"Thank you, Sam," he whispered upwards. "How far is there to go?

"I don't know," Sam replied truthfully, "because I don't know where we're going."

Sam looked around because Frodo could not. He was surprised to see how far he had come with that last bit of strength. He guessed that they were halfway up the mountain, perhaps more, he thought optimistically.

A sweeping view of all Mordor was in front of him, but he had no time to spare on that sight. He instead looked up above, searching for the way to go up the mountain. Among the rocks of various sizes he could spot a small path, although he could not guess the reason for its placement. He did know, however, that perhaps, if they could reach that path, they really could finally reach their destinationÐwhatever it may be.

This sudden hope was dimmed somewhat when Sam saw the steep slope up to it that they would have to scale. He leaned back onto the rock with a sigh, trying to ease his aching back. He had a fleeting sense of hopelessness before he rememberedÐFrodo. His master, the task; his driving force, his apparent reason for being. They had to reach their destination, whatever it may be. They could not go back. He would not go back.

Suddenly he felt a strange sense of urgency; a feeling that they had to continue, quickly. He pushed himself up with his arms, and saw Frodo trying to do the same. It seemed Frodo had felt the same thing, as he was fighting to get to his knees.

"I'll crawl, Sam."

And he didÐSam crawled along with him, for a minute, before he got to his own feet and walked alongside Frodo. The road was hard, and they had not gone far before Sam felt a flicker of terror, that feeling of dread upon him. The eye. It only looked their way a second, in passing, but Sam felt its terrible effects nonetheless.

He knew Frodo's affliction would be greater than his. He knelt by him, trying to comfort him. Frodo called out, in a whisper.

"Help me, Sam! Help me, Sam! Hold my hand! I can't stop it."

Sam took his master's hand in his own. He was surprised yet again; for a moment he remembered those moments, holding Frodo close, calm. Feeling like he was home. Feeling like he was warm and safe. He brought Frodo's hands to his face, kissing them gently, without really thinking. He was there for him, and he would be, until the end.

He knew it was time. This would be the end of him. The end of ends. He would reach the goal. He had to. He and Frodo, together.

He lifted Frodo again, holding him in front of him, his legs dangling over Sam's arm. He put his head down and pushed on, up the path they had finally reached. It was not an easy path, crumbling and rocky. He tripped in several places, but did not fall. The path cut this way and then that, making turns around large blocks of rock. The path made one very sharp turn about a crag of old stone. Sam's back was to the stone when he was suddenly struck from the back by something very large. He fell forward.

He did not know what had happened until he heard the hissing voice above and behind him. 

"Wicked masster," it hissed. "Wicked masster cheats us, he doess. SmŽagol thinks he musst not go that way, not hurt the preciouss. Give it to uss, yes. Give it to uss!"

At this point he was tearing past Sam, trying to get to Frodo, to the Ring. Frodo recognized this attack on his treasure, this trying to take it from him by force. He fought back with strength Sam did not realize he still possessed, driven by his need to protect the Ring. He drove him off and stood, facing the piteous Gollum, shrunken and starved from whatever trials he had gone through in his absence.

"Down, you creeping thing," Frodo cried, "And out of my path! You cannot betray or slay me now."

And then Sam, with amazement, thought he saw Frodo change. He was a harsh figure, robed in white, and on his chest was not the small ring, but a wheel of fire. The fire then seemed to speak, in a powerful voice.

"Begone, and trouble me no more! If you touch me ever again, you shall be cast yourself into the Fire of Doom!"

Sam trembled, and then saw Frodo the same as he ever was, and clutching at his chest. Gollum was at his feet, kneeling, and it seemed to Sam that he was about to pounce. He called out to Frodo. 

"Look out!" He stepped forward, holding out his sword. "Quickly, go! I will take him! There is no time to lose, you must go! Go!"

Frodo looked at him, with sadness and distance in his eyes. "Yes, I must go on," he said. "Farewell, Sam! On Mount Doom doom shall fall. Farewell!"

Sam watched him turn and leave. He was walking on upright, slowly, up the path. Sam turned back to face Gollum, brandishing his sword.

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I'm sorry, but I have to stop there. And yes, I know, basically the whole chapter was stolen out of the book. But that's what fanfic is, right? AnywayÉyes, you have the right to hate me for my short chapters and bad endings and non-updatingness. Review?

Oh, you've probably all noticed that I changed my pen name. But I wanted to know how you'd feel if I changed it again? I know I sound like I just can't decide on anything...which is partly true...but I swear if I can change it one more time I'll be happy. Anyone upset/mad about this?

PS This may have come out sooner but the electricity flickered in the middle and I lost like half the chapter.


	6. Fires

Just got back from Aloha-a-go-go land, a.k.a. Hawaii. Quite fun. This is the last day of my vacation, and here I am at the computer. I am a ff.net nerd. I can feel the muscle turning to fat, haha. Oh, and you probably noticed I changed my pen name again. About thatÉ*runs away*

Reviewers for last chapter: Only Julia and MaidenOfImladris. Come on, you can do better than that. All you guys besta be leaving me more reviews next time, or I'll update less frequently than Lomelinde1.

Disclaimer: Still, do not own. 

POV change at the * * *

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Chapter 6: Fires

Frodo struggled up the rocks, having long abandoned the path up the mountain. The weight of the Ring around his neck was no longer pulling him downward, but felt almost as if it was trying to push him backwards, away from the hot fire of the mountain. It hindered him significantly, but still he pushed.

He had no sense of how close he was; Sam had been doing most of the climbing. Frodo stumbled through the rocks, falling a few times, but always managing to return to a standing position. He had somehow gotten the strength to stand and walk rather than crawl, but he did not wonder how: he did not think. He only walked.

He felt as if possessed. He did not observe. He did not question. It was as if he had been made into a creature designed to do only one thing: his task, the destruction of the Ring. He must reach his ultimate goal. If not, he would be a failed design: broken, beaten, and ruined. He walked and fell, cutting his legs badly. He rose, and trudged on.

Vaguely he noticed small pieces of ash falling lightly on both sides and in front of him, like gray snow. He was uninterested in this. He was also unconcerned with the heat he had begun to feel on his face; in fact, he hardly felt it. He was almost divided, separated from his body, from all feelings. He could feel the ground beneath his feet, though, and the push of the Ring.

The heat was growing stronger now, though, forcing his skin to feel its burn, forcing his brain to comprehend the fact that he was close to something very hot. The ground beneath his feet became flat, such a tremendous change from what he had been experiencing before that he had no _choice _but to look up and realize his surroundings.

A gaping entrance in the mountain had come in front of him, somehow, and it was hot and dark. He walked inside, finding himself in a short and unlit tunnel. Although he was unable to see, he walked farther into the tunnel. The intense heat blaring in his face from whatever was ahead seemed to be making him come back to life, waking him up. His eyes widened. The tunnel was short, already ahead he could see the end.

Beyond the end was nothing but red, a red hole in the blackness of the tunnel. Frodo walked toward it; there was nothing else to do. As he came closer, he saw that the walls on either side at the end of the tunnel simply dropped away, forming a dangerous ridge with steep cliffs on either side.

He walked onto the precipice and was blasted with heat from the flames below. The fires of Mount Doom, shifting; rising and falling; molten rock and continuous burning. He walked to the end of the precipice.

This was his destination. The one place he had been striving to get to for months and months. It was at this place that a beam of light would be thrown upon Middle Earth, freeing it of the darkness and evil that had been spreading rapidly across the land. And he was to be that light, that one hope in a world of hopelessness.

Hurriedly he put his hands to the Ring and saw, with confusion, that they were shaking. He did not know what was wrong. He was sweating from the heat and his thoughts were moving slowly. It was time for him to destroy the Ring, complete his mission, his task, complete _himself._ He was here. It would be easy, yes, it was the end! Yes, he knew it in himself, in his heart, the answer was yes.

But his mind was still working, still trying to push a thought through the heat and thickness of his mind to the front, where he could see it. He felt it rise within him, coming closer, and then it was upon him. One thought that could change everything.

_No._

He whispered the thought, the one word, aloud, as if trying to understand it.

What did it mean?

_It is your time._

He knew it was his time, he already knew. His time to destroy the Ring. All he had to do was take it off and drop it into the flames, to do what he came here to do.

_No._

He was scared that it was beginning to almost make sense.

_It is yours._

It was his.

As if it was a voice calling from another world, he heard someone say a word.

"Master!"

Had Sam come? Frodo's thoughts were still sluggish, and his vision was hazy. He thought he spoke, said some words to Sam, but he did not know exactly what he said. He felt it was about the decision he had just made. To keep the Ring.

And he put it on his finger.

* * *

Sam gasped as Frodo disappeared from sight. Before he had even closed his mouth, he was hit forcefully in the back and he dropped to the ground, knocking his head on the stone. All went black.

Ten seconds went by where Sam felt nothing, and then he awoke. His vision was tinged with red, and as he put a hand to his face he felt a great deal of liquidÐblood.

He looked up, though his eyes were burning, and became very confused. There was Gollum, though he had thought he dismissed the sorry creature further down on the mountain. And the beast was fighting with an invisible something, biting and scratching in the usual style of his fights.

Sam realizedÐit was Frodo. He had put on the Ring.

Sam had not the strength to join the fight, though if he had he would not have known what side to join. He knew Frodo was completely in the Ring's power now, but still he felt a need to help him, save him. 

Sam heard a loud crunching and snapping sound, and suddenly Frodo was sprawled on the ground, clutching his bleeding hand to his chest. Gollum had Frodo's ringed finger in his grasp and was now jumping, dancing with it held high over his head.

Gollum was ecstatic, shrieking and bouncing tumultuously on the stone floor. Sam knew he would put the Ring on his finger any minute now, and the creature would be lost to them forever, free to cause any chaos and disorder he chose.

And he would have, had he not jumped a little too high and stumbled a little too far.

Gollum lost his footing and found himself at the edge of the precipice. He was tilting backwards, falling, screeching now not with joy but with terror. Sam saw his body disappear from sight over the side of the cliff. With one last cry of "Precious," he fell.

Sam felt the ground below him began to throb and then shake. There was uproarious noise all around him, screeches, rumbles and loud cracks. He lunged at Frodo and picked him up, carrying him out through the tunnel.

As they reached the outside Sam caught a glimpse of the most destruction and turbulence he had seen in his life. The world seemed to be crashing down; towers were disintegrated, the ground cracked in pieces. Everything was falling, breaking, catching fire. And then came a voice to his side.

"Well, this is the end, Sam Gamgee."

Sam's heart leapt at the sound of that voice, finally calm and clear, without pain or anxiety. He turned to Frodo and there he was, battered but alive and well. And he _was _well, finally himself again, without the strain of the Ring. He looked happy.

And Sam fell to his knees. He felt nothing but joy, pure joy at that moment. They had completed the task, his master was saved, the world might be ending but in his mind, it was nothing. Frodo was himself again. The journey was over.

Sam saw the crippled, bloody hand and cried out. (1)

"Your poor hand! And I have nothing to bind it with, or comfort it," he said. "I would have spared him a whole hand of mine, rather. But he's gone now beyond recall, gone forever."

Frodo half smiled and there was an odd look in his eyes. Sam remembered how he had once cared for Gollum, at one time. When he had almost been cured.

"Yes," Frodo replied. "But do you remember Gandalf's words: _Even Gollum must have something yet to do? _But for him, Sam, I could not have destroyed the Ring. The Quest would have been in vain, even at the bitter end. So let us forgive him! For the Quest is achieved, and now all is over."

He sat next to Sam, leaning against him, and spoke again.

"I am glad you are here with me. Here at the end of all things, Sam."

And Sam felt that way again, that he was home. It was a calm feeling, but at the same time it felt like a fire flickering inside him. He was content, even as the world was crashing down around him. As they began to slip into darkness, Sam spoke two wordsÐor perhaps he did not speak them at all, or only very quietly. He did not know.

"Me, too."

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(1) What follows is basically word-for-word from the books, because I still just don't feel like blatantly changing what it says in the canon. It works.

Chapter over. The story's not over yet, though, don't be sad. Just review! Please? You should take a leaf out of Julia's book. She doesn't even have an account, and SHE always reviews.


	7. Ithilien

Ok, you guys have been waiting for_ever _and I know it, too. It's time for me to stop trying to write a "plot" (whatever _that _is) and hurry up with the slash.

Thanks, as always, to the reviewers Eregriel Gloswen, Julia, and mewsette.

Disclaimer is the same as always.

Finally, some original dialogue...

Chapter 7: Ithilien

As the sun rose, the soft light streaming through the window lighted upon Frodo's body and crawled up it, inch by inch. It reached his crippled hand where it stole up the fingers and then his arm, then coming to his neck, and finally his face. As the light slid down the bridge of his nose and finally came upon his closed eyes, he stirred.

At first he saw nothing but the red glow of the back of his eyelids, and then he opened his eyes to take in the remarkable sight in front of him. His vision grew sharper as his senses reactivated, and even through the haze of sleep he could see a few things: the edge of the bed he was in, a large window, a door dark against the white wall

As his eyes focused he began to see the room he was in in greater detail. It was not a small room, but it did not seem large either, and the ceiling was very high and smooth. There were large windows, out of which he could see the sun and trees and everything was very still. The room was bright and warm, but mostly it gave Frodo a great sense of calm, spreading from deep inside him until it reached his feet and hands and every part of him relaxed, and he smiled.

He looked over to his side and saw Sam, and as soon as he did the great calm was gone from him and in its place he felt nothing but fluttering happiness: he was there, Sam was there, they were both safe and, more importantly, alive. He couldn't remember muchÐwhat was the last thing he could recall? FireÐa great deal of fire. A great shaking of the earth, a crowd of buildings falling down. How had they survived?

Perhaps he should wait for Sam to wake up, he thought. Maybe he would know more. Maybe he could remember...

But he was feeling tired again, and his hand hurt. His hand... as he drifted off he vaguely remembered Gollum, and his sharp teeth, and a hand on his arm

Frodo awoke again, and by the intensity of the sunlight he could tell it was quite late in the morning. He looked around the room againÉit was still very bright and white, but the air of stillness had gone. He realized suddenly that this was because the room was no longer still; two figures were moving to his side.

He turned, and as he did he heard the sound of someone crying. It was quiet and had started quite suddenly. Frodo looked to the side and saw two bodies: one sitting up in a bed and one standing very tall. Frodo could see that the one who was in the bed was the one he had heard crying, but as he watched, the figure started to smile and laugh, and Frodo wondered whether he had ever been crying at all. The hobbit in the bed (for that was what he was, a hobbit) started to talk to the standing figure.

"How do I feel? Well, I don't know how to say it. I feel, I feel" At this point he waved his hands in the air, as if trying to express his feelings through the motions of his arms. "I feel like spring after winter, and sun on leaves; and like trumpets and harps and all the songs I have ever heard!" He cried out with joy, and then his face grew solemn. "But how's Mr. Frodo? Isn't it a shame about his poor hand? But I hope he's all right otherwise. He's had a cruel time."

Frodo had recognized the speaker as soon as he spoke, and of course, who else would it be? Sam, who he had died with, or apparently _not _died with at all. How had they been saved?

"Yes, I am all right otherwise," Frodo said finally. "I fell asleep waiting for you, Sam, you sleepyhead. I was awake this morning, and now it must be nearly noon."

"Noon?" Sam repeated. "Noon of what day?"

Then the tall figure began to speak, and Frodo looked up at him. He was taken aback at the radiant quality of the figure's robes, and the bright light coming from them dazzled him for a moment. As the feeling passed, he got a good look at the tall figure's face.

It was Gandalf. Frodo gasped and immediately began to cry, silently, just for a few seconds as he got over the initial shock of seeing his old friend, back from the_from the dead?_ he thought. It was impossible...all of a sudden he wonderedÐhad he been there when he had woken up this morning? Could he have missed him like that?

Gandalf had been talking to Sam, but Frodo had not heard what either had said as he stared, seemingly mesmerized, up at Gandalf's face. He refocused and started to hear what Gandalf was saying.

"Even the orc-rags that you bore in the black land, Frodo, shall be preserved. No silks or linens, nor any armor or heraldry could be more honorable. But later I will find some other clothes, perhaps."

Frodo watched with growing amazement as Gandalf held out his hands, and he could see that in one something was glowing very brightly, almost too bright to look at directly.

"What have you got there?" he asked. "Can it beÐ?"

"Yes, I have brought your two treasures. They were found on Sam when you were rescued. The Lady Galadnil's gifts; your glass, Frodo, and your box, Sam. You will be glad to have them safe again."

Gandalf had left to find them clothes and a place to bathe and dress, and perhaps some food. Frodo and Sam were silent, each sitting up in their separate beds.

Frodo looked out the window. He thought he could hear birds singing outside, and he wondered how long it had been since he had last heard that sound. The feeling of complete relaxation was begining to come over him again now that Gandalf had left and the room was stillÉhe closed his eyes and breathed in the sweet, clean scent of Ithilien.

Then he opened his eyes and turned to Sam. Sam was looking right back at him, and Frodo discovered that it did not bother him at all. He smiled.

Sam looked down at Frodo's crippled hand. "How's your finger?" he asked, and then quickly added, "Or, your lack of a finger, at that."

"It's fine, Sam," Frodo replied, and was surprised to find that it was the truth. "Really, it feels all right" He waved his hand around as if to prove his point.

"They must have given you some Elvish medicine," Sam reasoned. "They work miracles, the Elves do. I've often wondered how they do itÉthey have so many secrets..." Sam trailed off and seemed to be lost in nostalgia.

Frodo watched him for a minute, giving him his chance to remember. Then he broke in. 

"You miss them, don't you, Sam? Galadriel, and the rest of them?"

Sam thought a moment, but only a moment, and then looked back at Frodo. "I miss them, yes. That forest was everything I'd ever dreamed of seeing when I set out on this quest. But still, after all is said and done" he paused, then continued. "I mean, I wouldn't have _stayed _with them, of course. I'd rather haveÉhave been with you. Even through it all, everything that happened...I'd rather be with you."

Frodo smiled at this heartfelt, if bumbling, statement. Sam looked distracted now, staring down at the quilt with his hands on his knees. Or did he look embarrassed?

"I'd rather be with you too, Sam," Frodo said. "Than all the Elves in the world."

Sam looked up at him and smiled brightly. "All the Elves in the world, Mr. Frodo? That must be a great many," he said happily. "Are you sure?"

Frodo felt that this question was deeper than it seemed to be. But he _was _sure; he would rather be with Sam than anyone in the world. Because Sam wasn't just Sam; Sam was a part of him. Sam was his friend, Sam was his home. He represented everything good Frodo had ever known. Friendship. Success. Trust. Love.

_Love._ It made sense, that Sam should represent love, because Sam _was _love, in every way Frodo had ever felt it. Sam loved everything; he loved life, he loved the world itself. It made sense, then, that Frodo should love Sam, and he did. But he did not only love Sam, he realized as he looked at his smiling face and eyes that offered everything to him, if only he would take it.

He was in love with Sam? He was in love with Sam. Frodo said it slowly to himself, _I am in love with Sam, _and it sounded perfectly right. _I am in love with Sam_, he thought again, and this time it sent a warm thrill from his heart to all parts of his body, and he remembered all those other times he had felt the same way

He wondered how he had not thought it before, but he thought it now, and he was sure. "I'm sure," he said.

Sam looked at him, and he was still smiling.

It was a risk, Frodo thought. He loved Sam, he knew it, and he wanted it. There could only be one thing left to do, he thought.

But he did not think he could do it. Sam's smile was so genuine, so happy; this was the happiest he had seen him since they left the Shire. He looked so beautiful, sitting there against the white of the room and the sounds of of the birds of Ithilien. And if Sam was not in love with himÉFrodo did not have the heart to break that.

Frodo opened his mouth to speak to Sam, although he was not sure what he was about to say, when Gandalf walked into the room.

"Your clothes," he said, "You will wear these this afternoon. Come with me, you will have baths, both of you."

Frodo closed his mouth and stood, and Sam stood too, and Frodo looked away.

Hey, it was like there was almost slash, but then there wasn't. Ha ha! Next chapter: Will Frodo get over his growing fear, or will it just grow some more and torture you all to death? Muahaha. Ok, I might even get out the next chapter in a week. Yes, I know I am a crap updater. Bear with me.

PS I hope I have not dissapointed you too much. You know if you ever have constructive criticism, you can email me or leave it in a comment.


	8. Cannot finish fic

So here is the deal, guys. Straight up. I cannot finish this fic.

sigh

I want to let you know that I really, really, really wish I could. For you guys. But the thing is, I just don't have the energy or the inspiration to get down to it and write more chapters. I really don't. I feel like I've been drifting away from this fandom more and more, and I can't tell you how sad that makes me. I don't even know my own story anymore. The fic turned from somthing I just felt like doing for fun, that was just for _me_, that was this new, exciting thingÉinto something I really didn't like and no longer want to address.

So--anyone who's reading this--thanks for trying to stick with me and the story even when I no longer could. Sorry (SO MUCH) if I'm letting you down. This will probably be a WiP forever, unless I sometime decide to come back and maybe rewrite it and finish it.

That is if doesn't kick me off first for making a chapter that's solely A/N.

3 Navarra


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